


Your memory is a monster

by becauseitwasreal



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: (he doesn't have a very big part in this but he deserves better than to be dead ffs), (it won't be very graphic), AU! from like 5 mins before the season finale onwards, Ash is Voq, F/M, Hugh Culber Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, basically no mirrorverse, but that doesn't mean Ash isn't gonna be the cinnamon roll we've come to know!!, this will have a happy ending!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-02 19:31:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13324971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseitwasreal/pseuds/becauseitwasreal
Summary: “Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you!” - John IrvingAsh Tyler starts to remember the unthinkable, and it begs the question - is he truly who he thinks he is?(AU! from the mid-season finale onwards)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some elaborate notes from the author:
> 
> I started working on this right after the mid-season finale and spirals AU! from that point onwards, ignoring the last 5 minutes of the episode to focus on Ash Tyler. I know the Ash = Voq theory (or what is by now the actual storyline, it seems) is in some ways controversial, but this fic comes with the writer’s promise that Ash’s traumatic experiences will be treated as genuine experiences (perhaps not by all of the characters, but at all times by the story) and that L’Rell’s actions will be treated as what they are, which is physical and sexual abuse. Even if there are moments in the story that Ash doubts himself IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT THIS IS WORKING TOWARDS GOOD THINGS BECAUSE ASH DESERVES HAPPINESS!!!
> 
> The story is largely plotted out and I've written half of the chapters, and will probably ignore the entire canon from the second half of the season, even though some of the unwritten chapters may be informed by what is yet to come. 
> 
> If you want to know what exact take on the Ash = Voq theory this fic is gonna take before you dive into it, please see the (spoilery) notes below!***
> 
> Now then, sit back and enjoy!
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> *** Notes on the Ash = Voq theory (spoilers!!) (now featured here because the end note suddenly moved to the second chapter which was... inconvenient)
> 
> This fic will not feature some weird body transformation of Voq into Ash Tyler. Here Voq's body is dead and Voq’s conscience/mind has been placed in the body of a genuinely existing Ash, and when Voq wakes he may TRY to take over at times, and he will be present, but it's not going to be Voq in Ash's body. It will probably kind of be like Loki in Journey to Mystery, in which the personalities of the Old!Loki and Kid!Loki sort of end up merged into one, so I guess I have Kieron Gillen to thank for this fic.

“Are you all right?” Tilly’s voice was soft, careful.

The mess was simply too loud, and he couldn’t _think_. The sounds somehow merged with the images that involuntarily spun in his mind, making him dizzy and slightly nauseous. He wasn’t sure if he could eat like this. It was as if he had never noticed before just how many people there were on this ship, and how crowd-y it could get around lunch time. Or perhaps he’d been subconsciously been avoiding them all along.

Ash squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would chase his thoughts away. He wondered if Michael had talked – if she had told Tilly about what had happened on the _Ship of the Dead_. Then he chastised himself for thinking that, for _not trusting_. Michael was not a blabbermouth, and least of all a gossip. If she had told Tilly anything, and that was still a large _if_ , because he simply didn’t know, it would have been for a good reason. “I’m fine,” he said, but his hand was gripping this side of his chair, and he was sure that Tilly would notice. She may come across as a bit naïve, but she wasn’t stupid.

The whole room seemed to spin in front of his eyes, and he told himself to focus on the girl sitting in front of him, on her red hair and her concerned eyes. On the dirty spot on the wall, perhaps that would be better, it didn’t look at him like that. Like he needed anyone’s pity.

“Are you in pain? I bet Dr. Culber could help,” she said, and she looked ready to drag him off to medical.

“Not necessary, it’s just some headaches.” It wasn’t too far from the truth. His head ached as if it was about to explode, but he knew it wasn’t a regular headache. What he felt went further, went _deeper_ than that. It was as if coming to the ship, seeing _Her_ , had somehow pulled a switch. It wasn’t as if his night were a blissful walk in the park before – sure, he had had his share of nightmares and though he would never admit as much to Michael, he felt safer with a phaser next to his bed. But it hadn’t been like this. Before, his memories of his time with Her during the first months had faded, jumbled together with images that had branded themselves into his brain more recently. Now, those images were the first to come to mind when his mind wandered, the first to grace his nightmares. And he didn’t understand them. He didn’t understand them, and he didn’t understand the knives, the blood. He didn’t remember Her as that brand of torturer.

A hand on his arm shook him from his thoughts. He was back in the mess hall, sitting right in the middle of all those chattering voices. Back in the light. Once, the light had helped. It made him feel like he was safe, because his prison cell had been dark. Now, he wasn’t sure if it did. He felt exposed, and finally understood how Lorca could bear the shadows. It’s easier to hide if no one can see you.

“Are you sure?” Tilly whispered. “He’s probably got some pills that will help.”

Ash shook his head as soon as the redhead mentioned pills. He didn’t want any of that mind-numbing nonsense. He didn’t want to remember, but also wanted to understand. He had enough doubts about his memories, about what was real and what wasn’t, and he didn’t want them to become any more confusing than they already were. “I’m sure.” His voice shook, and he realised that if he really wanted to come off as fine, he’d have to do a much better job at pretending. Because that was what he did best, right? He’d been able to fool the Captain, to fool Michael.

Tilly’s hand hadn’t moved, and her thumb stroked Ash’s arm softly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. But just know that you can, all right?”

He nodded, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready for what his mind had to offer.

\---

“Are you okay?” Michael asked during dinner.

Ash didn’t know if he wanted to answer her honestly, or if he wanted her to just leave him alone. He’d been doing this alone for a while now, and he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell her, how much he wanted to trust her with. She had seen a lot of him already, and what he had feared hadn’t happened. She hadn’t been scared away, and she had stayed. But that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a limit to what she could take. If he couldn’t deal with this himself, how could he expect her to fare any better? “I’m fine.”

And he was. Or better, at least. The mess was quieter now – Michael didn’t care much about what time they ate, as long as there was some kind of routine to it – and his mind felt a bit calmer. Or perhaps that was because of the hours he spent shooting Klingon holograms with Lorca. Perhaps that was the only truly therapy for his mind.

_Revenge?_

He could see Saru’s face when he had told him about what he wanted to do. What he would do if he got the chance. He knew the Kelpien judged him for it, but he couldn’t manage to feel different, to see it any other way. The Klingons were their enemy, and they deserved to suffer for what they had done.

 _Do they really?_ All _of them?_

He didn’t know the answer to that.

“Tilly said you were having headaches.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Of course she did.”

“She means well,” Michael said, her eyes drilling into him. If anything, she’d grown fiercely protective over her roommate.

Ash immediately felt guilty. “I know that, I just –” He didn’t know how to formulate his thoughts. _I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not sure if I trust you enough. This is new to me. I’m not as good at this as you think_.

“I know that you know.”

A hand on his knee, squeezing lightly, saying what she couldn’t verbalise. _It’s okay_.

He sighed, allowing himself to relax at her touch. It allowed him to forget, even if it was just for a little while. In this moment, it was all he needed to ground him. He was a long way from home, but that didn’t mean he was alone.

\---

He woke up with a gasp, and a scream on his tongue. It took his eyes a while to adjust to the darkness, to recognise he was underneath his own covers.

“Lights,” he croaked, and he stumbled out of bed for a glass of water. His head was pounding, and he was beginning to regret not following Tilly’s advice. What if the headaches, the confusion, were something more? What if there was something physically wrong with him, with his brain? He had heard of acute tumours, which could make you imagine all sorts of things.

Except he didn’t imagine this. There was _no way_ he could have imagined something this gruesome.

_Blood coated the right side of his face, damp and warm against his skin. He hardly recognised himself in the reflection of Her knife._

_“Please,” he whispered. “Please.” He still had his voice, even though he didn’t know what to do with it._

_Her hands on him. Her hands everywhere._

He dropped the glass, ignoring the shards on the floor, and tried to make his way back to his bed, to the safety of his covers. He reached the wall opposite it when he couldn’t do it anymore, and he let himself lean against it, slowly sinking to the cold floor. He tucked his head between his knees, pressing his hands against his scalp. As if that would make it all stop. As if that would make it any better.

“Please,” he whispered.

At first he was glad that Lorca didn’t give him a roommate. It made it easier to hide, and easier to forget. Now he wished that there was just someone – anyone. He couldn’t do this on his own.

_There had been others as well. He didn’t understand why he had been moved, and why they were all leaning over him. He was chained to a wall, and Her face was close to his, too close. A knife was pressed against his cheek, drawing blood._

_“Soon,” She said._

_“Soon,” They said._

_“Soon, you’ll be exactly where you’re meant to be.”_

The images burned behind his eyes as he remembered.

“Soon.” The word tasted strange on his lips, like a memory. He pushed himself upright again, shaking lightly on his feet.

There was only one way to find out what it meant, and now was as good a time as any.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash pays L'Rell a visit, which goes about as well as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Ash in the last episode at all, so I thought I'd fix that with a new chapter!

He made sure to be silent. He’d gotten good at that during his imprisonment. If he was silent, perhaps they wouldn’t notice him. They wouldn’t pick him. The only one who’d been there long enough to notice Ash’s almost constant presence was Mudd, and he wasn’t so interested in making the other man kick the bucket when he seemed to be a special favourite of the people who held the controls on his life, and even more so, his potential death. It was one of the many ways in which he had saved himself.

There was no one in the hallway, and there was an uncommon calm to the ship. Usually there was always someone bustling about, and even though he was sure that he wasn’t the only one awake, it wasn’t like before. There was no imminent threat to the _Discovery_ , and the largest ship of the Klingon fleet had been destroyed. They were going home.

 _No thanks to you_ , a small voice whispered, but Ash’s footsteps in the empty space were enough to drown it out.

His heart was beating its way through his chest as he typed in the code for the brig’s outer door. He had half been expecting that someone would have learned about his previous visit and would have restricted his access, but the door opened without any trouble, the bright blue light inviting him in. There were some perks to his position on this ship, it seemed, and the trust that Lorca appeared to have in him. Or perhaps the man simply didn’t care.

No, he knew that wasn’t fair. Lorca was the one who had taken him in, who had made him part of his crew, who had _rescued_ him and trusted him when he knew that many better men wouldn’t. He was the one who had made him Chief of Security in the first place. He was one of the people who never skirted around him, who never made him feel like glass about to break.

Ash resisted the urge to close his eyes as he came face to face with Her. He wouldn’t give Her the satisfaction, She didn’t have the upper hand. Not anymore. Not here.

She was in standing right in the middle of the cell, exactly where he had left Her. The blue suit looked strange on Her. Even though the clothing fit seemingly perfectly, something was simply _off_. As if the armour was part of Her, and it was now merely replaced by a mask of normalcy, a lull of security. Ash knew better.

“I see you’ve returned,” She said.

Ash simply stared at Her. The fluorescent light made Her look more inhuman than She already was. Even bound like this, virtually helpless, there was something menacing about Her. Perhaps because She seemed so composed. As if She was the one who held the reigns, as if She was the one who was in control. Or maybe that was just because he could feel Her eyes on him sharper than anyone else. Because he knew what Her eyes had seen, and how much he loathed Her for it. Or maybe She truly was the one in control. She must be, or he wouldn’t be here. “You seem rather triumphant for a prisoner of war,” he said, not quite looking Her in the eye. An offhand remark, but he knew that She knew that he wasn’t at ease. He was skirting, and he knew it.

“Am I the prisoner, or are you?”

_He had been bound, restrained, as She took him for Herself._

_He had been locked up like he was a wild animal, like he was nothing more than dirt._

_He had been chained, treated like a piece of meat, not even useful for information, only for his body._

_He had cowered in the corner as he tried to heal from whatever pain She had inflicted on him the night before, and he had tried to ignore the screams of the other prisoners as they picked each other off one by one._

_More often than not, he had failed._

“I think you know the answer to that question,” Ash said, looking at Her directly, bracing himself for the shudder that was bound to wrack his frame.

“I do,” She said, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say She sounded amused.

“Soon,” he said.

“Soon,” She said.

“What does it mean?”

_What did you do to me?_

_(Do you really want to know?)_

_What did you change me into?_

_(Don’t you even know who you are?)_

_What am I to you?_

_(You know, you’ve always known.)_

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Her refusal to answer made him clench his hands into fists. In what position was She to deny him anything? He could kill Her now, and no one would bat an eye. Just one more dead Klingon in a sea of corpses, that was what the war had turned the universe into.

 _But is that true, when She can provide valuable information? Would Lorca ever give Her up for a crewmember’s personal satisfaction? Would Michael still look at him the same way if he did_ that _? If he stooped to their level, the exact same thing Saru had told him not to do. Or would she realise that he was no better than the next guy? If he had his way, She would have burned with the rest of the Klingons. Oh, how he wished She had_.

“You wouldn’t,” She said, as if his mind was still somehow Hers.

_Oh no?_

“You couldn’t kill me.”

“And how do you know that?” he bit, his voice like a knife, its edge not quite sharp enough.

 _You don’t know anything about me. Just because you held me for months, just because you think that I am somehow yours, you know_ nothing _. You don’t know where I come from, where I’ve been. You don’t know who I’ve become_.

 _(But you wanted answers, didn’t you? You wanted to_ know. _)_

L’Rell’s laugh echoed through the brig. It was an ugly, hollow sound. “I know, because I made you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed the chapter! (:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ash remembers, but he isn't sure if he wants to.

“Do you want to stay?” The words left his mouth before he even realised he wanted to ask.

Michael looked at him curiously. “You mean…”

“Not like that,” he dismissed quickly. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he sure wasn’t. “We could just… sleep.” It didn’t sound like a bad idea. His day hadn’t been any better than his night. After he had visited Her, he hadn’t been able to sleep anymore. Her words had been clawing their way through his brain, and he hadn’t been able to let go of them. He hated that She still had this control over him, hated that She made him doubt himself.

“I can do just sleep,” Michael said, smiling lightly.

He smiled back, even though he felt a little nervous. It been a long time since he had shared his bed with anyone, and he even though he usually wasn’t one to feel awkward in such situations, it was somewhat different now. After Her. His head had caught up with what his heart let slip out of his mouth. He didn’t want to be alone, but he also wasn’t exactly sure how he would respond to _not_ being alone. He had nightmares every single night, and while Michael knew about them, she hadn’t ever seen one. By asking her to stay with him tonight, he was essentially inviting her to have a peek into his screwed up mind.

“It’s okay,” she said, her hand on his. She had soft hands for someone who could sometimes seem so cold on the outside. Harsh, as if there were edges to her you would cut yourself on if you weren’t careful. Then again, he’d seen beyond her surface, as she had been able to see beyond his.

Ash frowned, uncertain what she was referring to.

“If you’ve changed your mind. That’s okay.”

He looked at her, and thought he detected a hint of insecurity. “I haven’t,” he said, and he planted a soft kiss her forehead.

“It it okay if I just sleep in my t-shirt?” she asked. She was looking at the floor as it would hold the world’s answers. Ash was pretty sure there was nothing to find there but some dirty laundry. “I’m sorry – I’ve, well…”

“Not been in this situation before? Makes two of us.”

“You haven’t –”

“I mean, I have – just never…” _Never with someone who meant as much to him as she did. Never_ just _for comfort._ “…with you.”

“It may just be something you have to get used to,” she said as she released her feet from their rubber prisons.

“Since when are you the flirty one?”

Michael grinned, and pulled off her jacket in one swift motion.

“I still wonder who commissioned those t-shirts,” Ash said, staring at her Disco-shirt. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Tilly did it. It’s a Tilly kind of thing to do.”

“I’m sure that if she’d commissioned group t-shirts I would have known all about it. Maybe it was Lorca.”

“Oh please. I’m not saying that the man doesn’t have a single funny bone in his body, but this doesn’t seem like his kind of comedy.”

“In the sense that it’s actually funny?”

“Harsh.”

Michael stripped off her pants as well.

“You could borrow one of mine?”

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t bother you. I mean, you’ve seen legs before.” It almost sounded like a question.

“I even have two of them.” He opened his bed covers and allowed himself to crawl into his usual spot, his back facing the wall and his face to the door. He had made sure his phaser was out of sight before Michael came into his room, and he allowed her to settle her warm body on his mattress, her back pressed to his upper body. It was a bit cramped with the two of them in a single bed, but neither of them really minded. Ash snaked one arm around her, and she held onto his hand.

“You definitely have more funny bones than Captain Lorca,” Michael said, her voice muffled by their pillow.

“Judging from your opinion of his sense of humour, that’s a low standard.” And yet, he felt more warmth than just her body settling in his chest, and he felt himself slowly being lulled to sleep.

 _I love you_ , he wanted to say. He fell asleep with the words on his lips.

\---

 _Flashes of red, a knife against his throat, a knife cutting_ through _his throat_.

Ash woke up with a start, glad that he at least didn’t scream this time, clutching his pillow until his knuckles paled a shade. He tried to bite back the tears, but he couldn’t – he couldn’t stop himself from shaking, he couldn’t stop himself from burying his head in his pillow in a weak attempt to muffle the sound, he couldn’t stop his head from _hurting_.

“Ash?” A soft hand on his shoulder, another hand grabbing his, slowly untangling its grip on the pillow and holding it instead. Michael’s voice was calm, like it always was. Controlled.

He needed controlled right now.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. Her voice was laced with concern, and if he looked up, he was sure that he’d see her big brown puppy eyes stare into his.

He didn’t know, so he didn’t answer. He just gripped her hand a little tighter.

“They’re gone. The war is ending. Most of them are dead, and that woman is a prisoner. She can’t hurt you here.”

_Can’t she? She was doing a pretty great job from within that cell._

_(It’s because you’re allowing Her to do it.)_

_It isn’t. I can’t help it. I need answers._

_(That’s a lie.)_

The pain in his head intensified, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pain. Why did it hurt so much? Why wouldn’t it stop? He felt tears on his cheeks, and he was pretty sure that he was shaking. Michael’s arms were around him, and he heard her voice close to his ear, nothing more than a whisper.

“Kol is dead,” Michael said. “With no one to lead them, it’ll be over soon. The best they had was T’Kuvma, but he’s dead too. I killed him.”

His head was exploding. He couldn’t stop the images that were flooding his mind, and he pushed Michael away to press both his hands to his head.

_‘Soon,’ L’Rell said._

_Soon,’ he said, his own voice, but not his own face._

_T’Kuvma, choosing him as the Torchbearer._

_T’Kuvma, dying at the hands of the woman next to him._

_‘Soon.’_

_‘Soon.’_

_He remembered dying. It didn’t feel like he had expected. He hadn’t expected death to be painless. None of his life had been, so why would his death be any different. Still, he had expected some semblance of peace to guide his spirit._

_There wasn’t._

_‘Soon.’_

_‘Soon.’_

_He remembered the feeling of his mind being locked away, of knives and blood, and then nothing but pain._

_‘Soon.’_

_‘Soon.’_

_A face looming over his._

_‘Now.’_

There were hands on his body, and he was desperately trying to get away from them.

“Ash!” A voice was shouting at him, loud loud loud, too loud.

He just wanted it all to stop.

“Ash!”

Then he registered that the hands on his body were Michael’s, that the voice was Michael’s. He looked into her eyes, and while he expected to feel grounded – her eyes had always had that effect on him, able to bring him back from the deepest waters – the first thing he felt was revulsion.

“Voq.” He didn’t understand how his own name could be so strange to him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he waved his own name away, sitting up against the wall and drawing his knees to his chest. She couldn’t know. If anyone on this ship would find out who he was, he was done for. He’d end up in a cell right next to L’Rell, and he couldn’t – he wouldn’t be able to handle that.

“Nightmare?” Michael asked, but she didn’t touch him this time.

He couldn’t even bring himself to nod. If only.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! (:


End file.
